@Novalis
1421 Limerics
Your eight lined limerick reminded me of the earliest ones that were seven or eight limes long.
There was a fat lady from Eye
Who felt she was likely to die;
But for fear that once dead
She would not be well-fed,
She gulped down a pig, a cow, a sheep, twelve buns,
a seven-layer cake, four cups of coffee, and a
green apple pie.
You may observe the rhyming of the first, second and last line. Also the third and fourth The fifth and sixth.
Yours is a brainy one with each two lines rhyming.

I am neither young nor an adult for this series to interest me! I used to be sold on movies like Diamonds Are Forever with my all time favourite Sean Connery in the lead role.
It's nice to read from you about such things which help me in the up gradation of my knowledge.

"Once I was travelling from Mumbai to Singapore. A woman sitting next seat continued looking at me. I understood that this lady had never seen a sardar before. Midway in the flight when the tea and snacks were served, I struck a conversation with the lady. Her name was Margarita and she belonged to Spain. During the conversation, she asked, "What are you?" I replied, "I am Sikh." Said the young lady, "I am sorry. Hope you get well soon." To this I replied, "No dear, I am not sick as that of the body, I am Sikh as of religion." The lady was very pleased and shook hands with me and said, "It is nice meeting you, I am also sick of religion." -- attributed to Khushwant Singh

You are on the right track towards attainment of Nirvana! One of the earliest books that I read was The Story of Mankind, by Hendrik van Loon. I knew instantly that I could learn a lot more from books written for children than for adults. Like you, van Loon drew sketches for his own stories.
I am not familiar with Dr. Xargle and the chances of my getting acquainted with him are remote. But your unbounded glee has brought a smile on my face which is a rare thing these days! Must catch up with my browsing!

You are on the right track towards attainment of Nirvana! One of the earliest books that I read was The Story of Mankind, by Hendrik van Loon. I knew instantly that I could learn a lot more from books written for children than for adults. Like you, van Loon drew sketches for his own stories.

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Cheeniya you have that trick up your memory sleeve to recall something so compelling that I dare not respond ...you said Hendrik van Loon.

Yes, I read the book, perhaps on your nudge, I reckon, a breezy and insightful read. Long before the Brysons and Hararis were stitching together the rise of sentience and cooperation in man, Loon was composing these easy-read books for children and adults with child-like fascination.

The literary world is so cluttered these days with diversity, specializations, testimonials, unmissables and unputdownables that it is challenging to filter out the technique of smooth narrative in interchangeable content that are engaging and well-described. Not many book enthusiasts of today might indulge in these quaint authors as even the writers of the 50s are a disappearing tribe. Excites me immensely when I hear of, or introduced to, such writers who charmed the intellectual minds of the yore through their impressive feats. Hendrik van Loon is prolific in his writing. A man formidable in his pursuit of the cultural and historical ascension of man is to me self-referential in his theme to excavate the ambition in mankind.

The content of the book was loosely adapted into a movie featuring none other than the Groucho Brothers.

(chuckle) You and I are living fossils of quaint literary tastes ..by the way ...I am reading Art Buchwald. Hurray!

Cheeniya, the range of our free-wheeling topics is startling as I recount these pages of interactions of trivial observations on cultural artifacts, social myths, books, films, or even historical oddities. I have not realized the assimilation of these topics in me, until recently, I am inquired often few minutes into a conversation, you sound hysterical on the minutiae, whisper: sourced from our dalliances here. I am pleased that my learning and grooming found a cohort in you who I sense excites away in as much delight about random stuff in the world. Many inquire: have you always been this type to which I grin, no, I am been groomed by the best in my type. I wish every Novalis finds her Cheeniya to sustain the broad and whimsical interests in fun-filled conversations.

A particular insight in the book interested me greater. When Mendeleev was constructing his periodic table, the gaps had provisional names for anticipated elements. He named them with prefixes eka, dwi, tri based on Sanskrit pickings, depending on their rank below the primary element known to the science of the day. For example, germanium was called eka-silicon until its discovery in 1886, and rhenium was called dvi-manganese before its discovery in 1926.

The QPQ worthy mention is of a Russian chemist fancying Sanskrit descriptors for his seminal work to organize the elements into a grid. I don't recall this trivia ever printed in school textbooks on the chapter on Mendeleev. Wouldn't it have familiarized the kids with the international or playful knowledge of Mendeleev while laboring strenuously with the scientific puzzle of the day. Hmm, I am thinking of all the obscure scientists tinkering with Tamil prefixes, I am yet to discover, perhaps some day, to our astonishment.

We haven't scored on food pictures for a while. Here's my latest indulgence. It tastes like a cake, bread, bun, babka, which in this instance is a sweet cheese filled bread with Eastern European origins found in my local bakery. If somewhere there's heaven, and food is served in heaven, then such succulent and glazed must be the food as the taste of that sweet cheese filling blasted off my umami receptors. Even as I was polishing off the cake, and lost in the gastronomic reverie of creamy thoughts, I had the urge to look up the word "babka".

The noun babka means "grandmother" or "old woman", and as applied to the pastry probably refer to its shape, a tall cylinder, sometimes with corrugations resembling a skirt’s pleats.

Grandmother with intertwined pleats ..okay okay the pleats are evocative but never have I come across a confectionery named as a stand-in for matriarch. Does the cake resemble the customary outfit of a grandmother or the grandmother of a family is likely to bake such items for the ravenous kids.

I wolfed down the whole cake in one swoop! Then contemplation set in if such baked goodies are the remit of fiery hell than chilled heaven, which means I must be aspiring for hell over heaven for these prized cakes.

I am no photographer, mostly, I leave behind my phone at home for parkside strolls, thoroughly apprised of my wonky photography. Luckily this time, I dumped the phone in my satchel for navigational means. Moss-filled lakes are a beauty! When the moss is splattered evenly in color and growth, it lends an ethereal distinction. I was visiting one such lake.

But the lake is of no concern as I could never bring myself to be a dreamy-eyed nature lover gushing over geological formations. It is what I spotted in the lake which has been given a QPQ badge.

A lone duck!

A blithe swimmer!

The Holden Caulfied in me was stumped by its presence and its speculative prosperity in the lake. "You know those ducks in that lagoon right near Central Park South? That little lake? By any chance, do you happen to know where they go, the ducks, when it gets all frozen over? Do you happen to know, by any chance?" — The Catcher in the Rye.

Brooding clucks are not as amusing as the untroubled bathing splashes. Here was a duck, the valiant lord of the lake, or the enchanting lady of the lake, or a terrifying pirate, the latter pleases me greatly; a duckie pirate or runaway inhabiting the lake having driven away other pesky life forms. I could not find other friendly cohorts, or the duck might be an existentialist desiring headspace away from prying quacks to singularly pursue its reflection on civilization and its discontents. I quietly retreated without impinging upon its solitude.

As I was returning home, I spotted an ambitious spider web. Why ambitious, because the web spanned till the first floor of the building. Seen sideways web but not the towering web in my surrounds. Can you see the diaphanous web? It's so tenuous, fluttering in the wind, yet strong enough to hold on to the railing of the first floor. Stupefied and curious, looked around for the heroic spider. Found the zealous spider busy in its workload. Amazed at that edifice it built from its tiny workings, I wanted to be the sedulous ape to this illustrious spider.

A gale would bring down the whole artifice down, yet the spider persists in its craft. Being that someone who reboots and reinvents herself in fanciful strides, I could relate to that spider when the gossamer web is ripped off, the spider would rebuild the imminent ambition, again, and again blithely administering Robert Bruce moments to onlookers like me even in its fragility.

Edit: The photo is too faint, so removed, told you, I am no photographer. Will upload a better picture if the web is still intact tomorrow.